


Totus Tuus

by TwinEnigma



Series: In Memoriam Verse [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Future Fic, GFY, Implied Sexual Content, NaruSaku - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6955441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinEnigma/pseuds/TwinEnigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakura isn't terribly sure she's doing the right thing when she kisses Naruto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Totus Tuus

            Sakura isn’t terribly sure she’s doing the right thing when she kisses Naruto.

            Logically, it makes sense: they have just survived a terrible war with a horrific cost and there is this intense, burning drive to prove that they are _alive_ in whatever manner they can manage.  It is not uncommon for marriage and birth rates to climb in the years immediately following a war.  She herself is a child born following a war, as were many of her generation.

            It does not, however, mean that she wants to marry him, much less have children.

            She isn’t ready for that kind of thing.

            But she wants to kiss him until he’s senseless and maybe rip off his clothes.  He _has_ grown up nicely and sometimes, when he’s not acting like a fool, she imagines she could date him.

            Not now.

            Now, she wants to do other things to him, with him.

            It’s all perfectly natural, of course.  Girls have wants and needs, too.  And it’s not like he’s not easy on the eyes.  A lot of girls like him, want his body, and she is little exception.  He isn’t the short, chubby-cheeked little brat he used to be anymore.  He’s the fucking _hero_ , the spitting image of his handsome father and _damn,_ she worries about him, now more than ever before, because he was hers first and now everyone wants a piece. 

            But when he stood there with those smoldering blue eyes, it was just that _one_ look that had her smashing her lips against his and dragging him into her room.

* * *

 

            It’s probably a bad idea when she has sex with him.

            But she wants to feel alive, even if just for a moment, and so she lets herself do this with him, lets herself get lost in the rhythm and the heat of the moment.

            Sakura is not sure that she approves of the hickey he leaves on her breast, but she likes the way her fingernails leave long, red streaks down his back.

            It marks him as hers.

            It’s very territorial, irrational almost, and she is uncertain it is a good sign that she is not sure she wants him marking her as his.

            And yet, though it is probably a terrible idea, she wants to see him again.

            She does.

            Again and again.

            They mark each other with kisses, scratches, bites and bruises.

            He makes her feel _alive_ and _sexy_.

            She drags him down from that pedestal they put him on and makes him _human_ again.

            He protects her, worries, and makes an ass of himself.

            She has his back, nags him, and doesn’t let him get away with it.

* * *

 

            It’s a bad idea when they start living together.

            He leaves his dirty clothes on the floor and snores.

            She forgets medical textbooks and scrolls where he can trip over them and kicks him in her sleep until she’s used to him being there.

            He insists on takeaway because he works too hard and forgets to shop.

            She vows to teach him how to cook, but she works, too, and is too tired to shop.

            They bicker.

            They tease.

            They break in the futon.

            They fight.

            They make up.

            They break in the kitchen countertop.

            And so it goes.

* * *

 

            “Let’s get married,” he says, one day.

            He is lying next to her in bed, sweaty and sated from their exertions.  His new red and white robes are haphazardly tossed on the floor.  Her bra lazily spins above them, caught on the ceiling fan.

            “That’s a terrible idea,” she tells him.

            It’s annoying, his timing.  She’s not ready for that kind of thing.

            He laughs, rolling over to cup her chin with his hand and kiss her, and she scolds him for trying to distract her.  Then he does that _thing_ with his tongue and she forgets all about being annoyed.

* * *

 

            She marries the idiot, eventually.

            It’s one of the best decisions she supposes she’s ever made.


End file.
